Chapter 6

Journal Entry 2: Wednesday

I guess I should document what I do know about myself. I have legal documents showing my name as, Rebekah. Zainab Smyth. I am a legal United States Citizen and have taken the oath to protect the Constitution of this nation. I have had many names over the years. None of which I will document due to National Security issues. I am currently in the employ of the Central Intelligence Agency. Because of my uncanny linguist skills. How I came to be employed by the C.I.A. That is quite the Story.

For security reasons, all exact names will not be used, nor will accurate locations.

After I finally pulled myself together after a few days that something may have happened to my mother, I set off for areas abroad in the hopes of learning anything. During this time, I was a menace to all that crossed my path. Taking and stealing anything I wanted. Food, Clothes, money, weapons and transportation. No one ever died, from my hands. My actions may have caused drug lords in the region to act harshly on some, but those individuals were not innocent themselves. I wandered for the next 3 or 4 years.

On one particular day, near a market area, a Prince and his teenage son came under attack by rogue hostile forces. In the attack, the son’s security detail got killed and the son was shot in a shoulder, but managed to flee the scene in a different direction from his father’s security detail that was leading the majority of the hostile force away from his son.

The son, staggered into the narrow alleyway where I had dived into when the weapon fire began.

The son, already pale from the injury and blood loss, triggered something within me. I immediately grabbed onto his hand and pulled him with me, telling him that I will get him safely away.

I pulled him thru alleyway after alleyway and even ran through a couple stores. The crowd was in a panic as people were running and screaming everywhere. While running, I snatched up items I thought we would need. Eventually finding a location where I could not see anyone around us. Stopping for a brief moment, I applied what aid I could to the young man’s shoulder to stop the bleeding. Using encouraging words that I would take care of him and ensure his safety.

Distantly, I heard the words, “Find the son.”

They must be tracking him some way. And I do not know if they are friend of foe. Grabbing his hand, I pull him with me as we continue to run. I drag him into an area where I know people hang their clothes. I grab a couple of items while still on the run, regardless of the yells I hear. After a couple blocks, I stop and tell the young man to strip. Down to his underwear. “They are tracking you somehow.” I manage to convey to the reluctant lad. I stuff all of his items into an appropriated trash bag and set it aside with other garbage. Telling him, we can come back later for them, if they are safe. I throw the garb on over his head, dressing him as is the custom for married women in the country. Putting on a new set for myself, I tell him that we proceed to walk further away and see if we can elude his would-be captors.